


we can leave the night on

by shallot



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallot/pseuds/shallot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is oblivious. Miroslav is a tease. Manu will never believe a word. </p>
<p>Or: </p>
<p>'It’s my high school reunion and I need a hot date so I can rub it in the faces of the people who hated me'</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can leave the night on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kopfkino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopfkino/gifts).



> Title is from Sam Hunt's 'Leave the Night On.' I do not own this song, nor any of the characters in this fic.
> 
> The boys all work as reporters and the like at a television studio. Hence, very AU.

The invite pops up on his phone while he’s on his lunch break.

_Stefan Krüger invited you to his event ‘Class of ’06 ten year reunion’ on the 15th May 2016._

Sunday 15th May. Two weekends from now. Thomas stares at the notification, his fork half way to his mouth, feeling dread seep into him, among a tonne of questions. Had it really been ten years? Did most of his graduating class still hate him? Why had he not been given more than 2 weeks’ notice? Where on earth was he going to find a date?

“You okay Mülli?” Manuel Neuer falls into the seat next to him. Thomas’ thumb is hovering over the ‘Can’t Go’ button, until Manuel snatches the phone from his hand.

“Aww, my high school class never has reunions!”

“I’m not going to go,” Thomas mutters, his cheeks flushing with colour, reaching for his phone.

“Um, yes you are.”

“What’s Thomas not going to?” Thomas groans as Bastian Schweinsteiger sits down next to them. If Bastian caught wind of this, the whole office was going to know by the end of the day.

Manu – _traitor_ , thinks Thomas – proceeds to tell Bastian all about Thomas’ unfortunate years at high school, and the fact that now Thomas has a decent job – “I mean come on, Mülli, you’re a reporter for one of the biggest sports channels in Germany!” – he should really be going to his high school reunion to show himself off.

“Go!” Bastian is very enthusiastic. “What have you got to lose!”

“I don’t have a date…” Thomas mumbles. “Everyone knows you can’t go to a high school reunion without a date.” He looks at Manu pleadingly.

“I’m not going with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. But you’re definitely going.”

Thomas gives him an infuriated look.

“I’ll come,” Bastian offers.

Thomas scowls. “I’d rather go dateless.” Manu falls into fits of laughter.

Bastian actually looks offended for a second, but then flips him off. “Fine. But when you’re scrambling to find a date, don’t come running to me.”

And that is exactly what Thomas does – scramble to find a date. He finds himself texting anyone he’d ever known in the hope of finding a date. Lisa is busy. Holger is out of the country. Mario gives him an apologetic no. He desperately calls Bastian who knows what he’s calling for even before he explains, and tells Thomas to have fun at his reunion before ruthlessly hanging up.

He trudges into work on the Friday of the reunion weekend, dateless, and refuses to talk to Bastian for the entire day. It’s nearly 5 o’clock, and he’s sitting at his desk, trying to make a list of other people he could ask.

Suddenly, he hears a knock at his door. He turns around and sees Miroslav Klose standing before him.

He’d be seriously lying if he were to say he isn’t a little bit in love with the other reporter. It started off as simple idolising – Miro is incredibly good at his job, never making mistakes like Thomas, who even in his five years in the television industry still trips over his sentences from time to time. The older man keeps to himself mostly, but the times he has interacted with Thomas have been enough to send the young reporter head over heels.

“Hi,” Miro says, and eases himself effortlessly into the room. Thomas manages a smile, then promptly drops a jar of pencils onto the floor. He scrambles to pick them up, and is blushing when he meets Miro’s gaze again. The older man wears a little smile, his eyes surveying Thomas with something he can’t read. Thomas smiles back bashfully. “Boss wants us all in early on Monday. The meeting’s been rescheduled for 9.”

Thomas groans. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Have a good weekend, Thomas,” he thinks he sees Miro chuckle a bit, as the older man turns to walk out of his office.

Thomas stares after him for a second, then some weird sort of confidence comes over him.

“Wait! Miro?”

The other reporter stops, and turns back, an inquisitive look on his face. “Yeah?”

“Um…” _Oh god, abort abort abort_. “Have you got plans for tomorrow night?”

Miro frowns slightly, and shakes his head. “No, why?”

_Here goes nothing._ “I uh… Um… Well I’ve got a high school reunion that night and I don’t have anyone to go with, and I kinda really want to impress all the people there who thought I was a loser back in school so um…” _Why are you putting yourself through this Müller?_  “If you’re… um if you’re not doing anything would it be okay if you, um, pretended to be my date?”

“Are you asking me out?” Miro looks confused.

“No. No! I just… All my high school friends hate me and if I bring someone good looking then maybe I’ll look reasonably successful. You don’t have to of course.” He stares at the ground, willing to God that he hasn’t just made an absolute fool of himself in front of the guy who he’s been in love with the for the past 6 months. “I just… It’s a fake date. If that’s okay with you. I’ll buy you dinner – not romantically of course – or I’ll do your paperwork for a week or something.” _God, Müller, just shut your mouth NOW._

Miro pauses. Thomas shrinks in on himself. “You think I’m good looking?”

“Yes,” Thomas says far too quickly. “I mean… you’re the best looking at work… That’s not to say you’re not good looking in general but I just mean that you’re…” He trails off after he sees Miro smirking, and blushes crimson. “Yes I think you’re good looking.”

Miro laughs, and the sound is so beautiful. And then he says the unthinkable: “Yeah, sure, I’ll be your fake date. But you better take me out to dinner.”

Thomas gapes at him for a few seconds, and Miro raises his eyebrows. Hurriedly, Thomas splutters a quick thank you.

“You’ve got my number, right?” Miro says, and Thomas blushes crimson and shakes his head.

He can’t quite believe that Miro is actually typing his number into Thomas’ phone, and that he would actually be able to text his idol-slash-crush-slash-love of his life.

“Let me know the details, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Miroslav takes his leave, and Thomas watches him walk out the door, his eyes drawn to the swing of the older man’s hips and – _oh god, Thomas what have you got yourself in to?_

…

“You asked out Klose?” Manuel almost chokes on his coffee when Thomas tells him over brunch the next morning. “Thomas are you out of your god damn mind?”

“Well… He said he’d come.”

This time, Manu really does choke on his coffee, and coughs it rather gracelessly back into his mug. The barista looks far from impressed.

“You’re going to your high school reunion with _Miroslav Klose?_ ” Manu is aghast, his voice hoarse.

“What? Don’t think I could get a guy like Miro?” Thomas juts out his bottom lip. On the inside he is jumping for joy.

“I _know_ you can’t get a guy like Miro. Especially when you’ve been blatantly in love with him for the entire time you’ve been working here.”

“Fuck off.”

He gets home later that night and bravely texts Miroslav, giving him the details for the following night. He wants to start a proper conversation with Miro, but doesn’t for fear that the older man might change his mind. Instead, he just sends a quick text with times and places, and turns his phone off, hops into bed, and falls asleep.

…

Miro turns up at Thomas’ flat the next evening, incredibly punctual and looking effortlessly classy, making Thomas feel second-rate the minute he steps in the door.

“Hey,” he says quietly, flashing a quick smile at Thomas as he toes off his shoes, despite Thomas’ protests. “How are you?”

Thomas takes a little while to accustom to the fact that Miroslav Klose is actually in his flat, talking to him, about to go to a bloody high school reunion with him. He has spent the day alternating between endless fretting and worrying that Miroslav would change his mind, and letting himself get lost in the fact that he is in fact taking Miroslav on a pretend date, and he imagines various impossible scenarios that his subconscious may or may not have dreamed extensively about the previous night.

It’s wishful thinking, he tells himself, as he prepares for the night ahead.

“So, what’s our love story?” Miroslav asks with a little laugh when they are in the car.

Thomas doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he blushes. “What do you mean?” He stammers.

“Come on, we have to have a cover story. People are going to be so enchanted by our relationship that they are just going to have to ask how we got together.”

Thomas tightens his grip on the steering wheel hearing Miroslav talk so casually. He hopes the other man doesn’t notice. “You’re right,” he mumbles.

Miro fabricates a fairly simple story – they’ve been together nearly 2 years now, after meeting on Thomas’ first day at the tv studio, and Thomas had spilled his coffee on Miro’s suit just minutes before he was supposed to be live on camera. It’s painfully close to things Thomas has fantasised about, but he just smiles and nods and makes sure all their facts are the same.

Miro is cool, calm and collected, as per usual. 

Thomas, on the other hand, is all over the place. He keeps apologising for making Miro do this, to which Miro just smiles and shakes his head, which makes Thomas’ heart melt. He really is grateful, but at the same time his brain is screaming at him to just turn around and go home, because this could all end up making him fall even more head over heels for his colleague.

This is obviously not what happens, and Thomas makes it to the venue with minimal palm sweat, no stains on his shirt – yet – and having not made a fool of himself in front of Miro. He thinks he’s doing pretty well.

A few long tables are booked for them at the restaurant. They all have name cards, and Thomas says a quick hello to the very few people he knows before they sit down. He can’t mingle to save his life, so Miro saves him, introducing himself to the couple across from them – who just so happen to also be a gay couple.

Thomas recognises Julian Schmidt, who he had been relatively friendly with throughout high school, and he manages to make himself engage in the customary catch up small talk.

Miro is a natural at all of this, and Thomas can’t help but be a little in awe of him. At the same time, he has to keep reminding himself that they are supposed to be a couple, and comfortable around each other, so he does the best he can to act at ease, when in fact, his heart is pounding as he hears Miroslav ramble on about how they supposedly got together.

“Babe, do you want a drink?” Miro says suddenly, loud enough for those in the vicinity to hear, and Thomas tries to stop himself blushing at the pet name.

After some hesitation, he answers “Yes please.”

“Beer?” Miro is smiling brilliantly at him, while Thomas tries to convey to him with his eyes that he really doesn’t have to be doing this. Miro inclines his head, waiting for an answer, and Thomas nods, totally unprepared for what is about to happen next.

Miroslav gets to his feet and presses a kiss to Thomas' cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Thomas is blushing furiously; he’s completely dazed by the fact that Miroslav Klose just kissed him (on the cheek albeit, but that is still a kiss in Thomas’ book) but has to pretend like this happens every day of his life.

“You two are adorable,” Julian says, and Daniel nods. “How long have you been together?”

Thomas blushes again and mumbles the answer they’d agreed on.

“He’s a catch, I’ll tell you that,” Daniel grins. “You’re both on the telly, right?”

And so he actually starts to succeed in socialising with the two men. Miro returns, places his hand very obviously on Thomas’ leg and they all begin to chat. Thomas tries to relax – he can’t believe he’s actually making proper conversation at this godforsaken reunion – but at the same time he’s ever so conscious of Miro’s hand on his thigh.

Their dinner arrives, everyone mingles between courses and it’s all very couple focused, making Thomas infinitely glad Miro is with him. They return to their seats for dessert, and Thomas is actually starting to enjoy himself. He doesn’t seem to remember Julian being this nice in high school, but he supposes things change. He certainly has. He tries to laugh along with the jokes and be his usual self, but then Miro starts rubbing circles on his thigh and he loses his mind a little bit.

Suddenly, it’s all too much, and he excuses himself, not meeting Miro’s gaze, and heads to the bathroom. He proceeds to lock himself in a cubicle and freak the fuck out.

This can not be happening. Miroslav is taking it far further than what Thomas had expected, and now he can’t _not_ hope that maybe Miro is actually into him. He drags his hands down his face, and shakes his head. No, that’s wishful thinking, and thinking like that would just get him nowhere.

He’s regretting ever asking Miroslav in the first place, because it’s doing nothing to help his hopeless crush on the older man. He knew he was obvious before, but this is a new level, and if Miro hasn’t figured out by now that Thomas is desperately in love with him, he doesn’t know what would be enough to show him.

Thomas returns to the table, and Julian and his partner have disappeared, which means that he has to face Miro alone. He slips back into his seat, and busies himself with finishing off the rest of his dessert. He can feel Miro looking at him, and he blushes crimson, for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“Everyone’s gone to dance,” Miro says eventually. “We should probably go too.”

Thomas stills, staring at his cheesecake. “You don’t have to do all of this,” he says, not meeting Miro’s eyes. He wants nothing more than for Miro to continue doing everything he has been doing, but of course he doesn’t tell Miro that.

Miro doesn’t reply, and Thomas is forced to look at him, surprised to see him smiling at Thomas. “Shut up and come and dance with me, you idiot.” He reaches for Thomas’ hands, and the younger man can’t do anything to stop himself being pulled onto the dance floor. There’s a DJ, and it’s mostly been top 40 remixes all night, and it’s going all well and good until the beat slows down a bit and all the couples around them are locked in disgustingly passionate embraces, and _Jesus_ , Thomas thinks,  _that is a lot of PDA._  Miro ends up with his hands on Thomas’ waist and Thomas can only wrap his arms around Miro’s neck. He can’t look at Miroslav, so he just stares at the ground as they sort of sway back and forth awkwardly.

“So would you say the night was a success?” Miro asks in a hushed voice, and Thomas looks at him bashfully. “I mean, I think Julian and Daniel were pretty impressed with you.”

Thomas shook his head. “I think they were more impressed with you.”

“I highly doubt that,” Miro chuckles, and Thomas falls a little bit harder.

He looks back down, and mumbles a stuttering thank you. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It was my pleasure. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

Thomas looked at him, and it was like Miro was staring into his soul. He had always feared that the older man could read him, but the look that Miro was giving him all but confirmed the fact that Miro probably knew that Thomas was hopelessly in love with him. Thomas retracted his arms from around Miro’s neck, and stepped back, bumping into someone and hurriedly apologising.

“Miro I - ”

“Are you going to kiss me or do I have to do all the work myself?”

“We don’t have to - ”

“God, you really are oblivious.”

And with that, Miro grabs him by the waist and pulls them together, closing the gap between their mouths.

Thomas can scarcely believe it’s happening, but the feel of Miro’s mouth on his is very, very real, and Thomas kisses him back for all he is worth. He stares wide eyed at Miro when they break apart.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don't. But I want to.” Miro kisses him again.

It lasts longer this time, slower movements, more delicate touches, Miro’s hands cradling Thomas’ face. When they break apart, Thomas feels his cheeks flush crimson under the scrutiny of his fake date’s gaze. “I don’t understand,” he stammers.

“I know you said this was just a fake date,” Miro says, his arms curling around Thomas’ neck. “But you don’t know that I jumped at the chance to even come tonight. I couldn't say no to you. So…” he looks up at Thomas, who still can’t quite believe this is happening. “What do you say we make this fake date less of a fake date and more of a first date?”

Thomas gapes at him for a second. “This isn’t some kind of cruel practical joke where you tell the entire studio that I asked you to go on a fake date with me because I’m a lonely loser?”

“I promise.”

“I’ve had a crush on you for so long.” Thomas admits quickly, regretting the words as soon as they come out of his mouth, as Miro just smiles mischievously.

“Oh I know. You’re not exactly subtle, sweetheart.”

And with that Miro kisses the blush from his cheeks, and Thomas really could not care less if he’s sort of made a fool of himself for the past few years, because he’s here on a real date with Miroslav Klose, who is kissing him breathless, and though he still can’t believe it’s happening, it is, it’s real and it’s happening.

As they kiss, a thought strikes him, and he has to fight back the laugh that bubbles in his throat.

_Manuel is never going to believe him._

……

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I'm supposed to be writing These Violent Delights, don't even look at me.


End file.
